


some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them (and some are just born Winchester's)

by PassionateKey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Braeden is Dean Winchester's Son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionateKey/pseuds/PassionateKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben lives a relatively normal life until an incident that involves witches and mutated werewolves and suddenly there's this weird feeling like maybe there's something missing in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them (and some are just born Winchester's)

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, I am 178% convinced that Lisa lied to Dean about Ben not being his biological son, so he is in this fic.  
> Secondly it doesn't really take place at any sort of part in the show-just long enough after season 6 that Ben is a senior in high school.  
> Lastly, this was kind of a whirlwind inspired headcanon that i've been wanting to write for a while so i know it's a bit blah, excuse me and my bad writing skills.

Ben wasn't sure where the knowledge or feeling had come from, it was like some weird hidden drive to survive had kicked in and when he heard the door splinter and the scream of a women echo through the halls his first instinct was to grab the bat.

He was too late of course, if he thought about it later he'd say that maybe it was destined to be or some shit. He found the creature, monster, whatever it was knawing on the poor girls now pale flesh and while whoever had followed him into the room was running back down the hall, he stood his ground.

The creature, that now looked a lot like a mutated werewolf bared it's teeth at him. Ben shallowed the fear that had caught in his throat and any and every part of him that told him to run.

"Come and get me you sick son of a bitch."

He left that night, blood splattered all over his plaid shirt, a broken rib, and his first kill.

 

Sometimes, on the rare nights that he remembers his dreams, Ben dreams of having a family. It's him, his mother, and a man whose eyes always look a little sad but who Ben knows loves him. Those dreams never make sense to him because there's never seen the man, not as far as he can remember.

 

It's his senior year of high school only 4 months after the incident at Chelsea's house where everyone swore up and down a rabid dog had attacked the girl, who had somehow survived, and instantly Ben had become a hero. Of course not after his mother scolded him for being so stupid, he could have hurt himself, come out worse then a broken rib. Ben only half listens, and he never mentions to anyone that whatever attacked Chelsea that night was anything but a rabid dog.

But it's four months later and no one notices at first, how young men are going missing in the town. It starts with the quiet kid in his Calc class, Thomas, the one who always smiles at Krissy Tegan and who shares his candy with the janitor after school. Ben only notices because the kid sits next to him and isn't in class one day to ask Ben for a pencil. A week later the missing person's sign hangs limply from a post as everyone mills into school. 

The next kid to go missing is Raz, the school's resident joke. No one takes Raz seriously, and when he goes missing it takes them almost a week before someone puts out an alert, even then, no one pays it took much mind. 

Not until it's Kingsley Jone, star quarterback and most likely to succeed. If Ben was being serious he couldn't care less about Kingsley, his own personal bully all through middle school,but in a small town a local celebrity doesn't show up for a big game and all hell breaks loose. Two hours later, police dogs scowering half the town and all they find is a blood soaked jacket that Thomas' grandmother confirms is the last thing she saw him in.

 

Ben's not really all that sure how he ends up on the search team that's in charge of the south side of the woods, the one's closest to the river and by that old abandoned mill, but someone how his mother had convinced him and there he was cold and annoyed. Sure he didn't want to see Kingsley harmed, no matter how much of jerk he'd been to him, he didn't much know Raz but no one deserved any of what could possible had happened to the three boys, still the search team finds nothing else that night. And it's how it goes on for a whole week straight.

Until one night when Ben is walking home from the library, backpack heavy, lacrosse stick hitting his left leg with every step. At first he doesn't hear it, later he'll note that it's a full moon, much like it had been the night of Chelsea's party, eventually though the sound gets louder and every fiber in his being goes on high alert. It sounds sickly, like it's dying, whatever it is, and it's coming from the woods, on the south side of town, by the river and the old abandoned mill. Everything in Ben's right mind tells him to keep walking, not to stop, that it's dark, that his mom will kill him-if whatever is making that sound doesn't kill him first, but like that night at the party, Ben stands his ground. And for the second time he wonders where the instinct comes from.

"Is anyone out there?"

There only silence for a moment, but then he hears it, the soft sickly groan. " _H-h-h-e-eeeelp m-meeee_."

His heart begins to pound, what if it's Kingsley, or Raz, or even Thomas?

"Jones? Is that you Jones?"

He pulls his bag around, slipping the stick into his hands. Palms gripped tight against the metal.

" _H-h-h-e-eeeelp m-meeee_."

He gets closer to the edge of woods, it's getting dark and he can't see through the foliage. The groaning stats up again, this time a bit more high pitched, and there's some rustling, all before the groaning is replaced by a strong growl and something big and furry is jumping out at Ben.

The lacrosse stick skids out of his hands as his back hits the dirt with a heavy thud, his vision goes spotty along with his breath as the full weight of something sits on him. He tries to push it off, tries not to cry out in pain as his healing rib strains against the pressure.

The creature growls again, something sticky landing on Ben's face. It's pinned his arms down, claw like fingers digging into the skin. Ben can't help but cry out this time.

It seems to mock him as it howls to the moon and then the smell hits him, before it goes dark all he can think off is why it seems to smell like fresh apple pie.

 

 He wakes on to a numbing pain on his left side and instantly he knows his rib is probably dislocated again. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once he can see those sensors that told him to walk away both times go on overdrive. The place is dark, covered in some sort of glistening sweat, and smells of dirt, which lets him know he's underground. The next thing he notices is that he's not alone, there's heavy breathing somewhere beside him and at this point his only guess is that it's one of the missing boys, which he is now a part of-his mother was going to murder him. Lastly he notices that he's bound, hands hanging high above him, no wonder his ribs were killing him.

The heavy breathing stops before a rough southern accent follows, _Jones_. "What's your name kid?"

"It's me Jones, Ben."

The voice, or rather Jones chuckles, before groaning, he must be hurt too.

"The whole towns worried looking for their star quarterback, got everyone split into search teams, tearing this place apart."

"Really? So you getting caught and thrown in here, that part of the rescuing mission?"

Ben choses to be the bigger man and ignore the jib. "Thomas and Raz, they here too?"

Jones doesn't answer, but Ben can hear his heavy breathing.

"They found Thomas' blood soaked jacket about a week ago, out by old Harris' farm, right outside of town lines."

The breathing grows shallower," They took him, nights ago, kid went kicking and screaming, didn't think he had it in him, coulda been one hell of a player, haven't see him since."

"And Raz?"

"They took him when they brought you in. Didn't put up much of a fight, kinda think he wanted to go, knew what his future held."

Ben went quiet. Thomas was gone, Raz was probably too, next would be Jones, and then himself.

"Who's they?"

Jones coughed followed by a silent hiss, "Not sure, never really seen their faces."

"You hurt?"

"A bit, they weren't exactly friendly on getting me here, think my leg might be a little fucked up. You?"

"Just my ribs."

"From Chelsea's party right?"

Ben shallows the fear that suddenly rises in his throat at the mention of that night. "Right."

 

The take turns keeping watch while the other sleeps, but for two nights no one comes. Jones' cough gets worse and Ben knows if they don't try to escape now, soon he'll be too weak. In his dreams Ben dreams a lot more of the man with the sad eyes, these dreams are new though, ones he'd never had before. For one he learns the man's name, it's Dean. Ben isn't sure if that's real or just something his brain came up with, but he goes with it. Soon after countless hours of going in and out of consciousness he begins to hear the mans voice in his head, when he starts talking to it, he passes it off as the head trauma.

" _Come on Ben, think, how can you get out of this?_ "

"Gee, I don't really know Dean, considering I've never been in this situation before!"

" _Don't sass me boy, I'm just trying to help. You know I was in a situation like this once, crazy ass demons had me captured and stored in their little sex dungeon, thing about creepy caves is ragged rocks that cut through rope._ "

 

Someone shows up on the third night, or what Ben assumes is the third night, to feed them. He freezes, trying not to give away the fact that he was trying to cut the rope with the ragged walls behind him. Whoever, or whatever it is that walks in doesn't speak to them, just forces a strange liquid into them that makes Jones' coughing seize and makes hims drowsy, he loses track of time again.

 

" _Come on boy, wake up! You can't give up, gotta keep fighting!_ "

He knows the voice is only in his head, but it's so full of worry that Ben snaps out of it, his arms are tired and his ribs hurt like hell, but he has to keep going.

"How long you gather we been down here?" Jones moves somewhere beside him.

"Too long." Is all Ben responds before getting back to work.

 

He feels the rope start to give and then he's tumbling to the ground right as the sound of keys jingling echo through the room.

" _Better get ready to fight_."

"No shit," Ben growls, trying to get the blood circulating the right way back into his arms.

"Flex them," Jones commands behind him. "Trust me man, it'll help."

The door in front of them begins to screech open and Ben scrambles to get up, feeling wildly for some sort of weapon. Against the wall a couple feet from where he had stood suspended lies his lacrosse stick.

" _It's now or never Ben._ "

He grasps the familiar metal in his hand and just as quickly he's swinging freely.

The first swing catches their visitor on the side of the head, the next one of the back of the neck, the last on underneath the chin. They hit the floor with a heavy thud. Ben begins to walk away exhausted.

" _Always finish the job, never leave a monster standing_."

Ben turns around to see amber eyes stare back at him before he's jumping back on the creature, raising the lacrosse stick above his head and plunging it into their heart. He's not really sure who's screaming but when it's over his throat is left raw and the creature underneath him has stopped moving.

"Think anyone heard that?" Jones chuckles lightly, skin paler then ever, before he's throwing up.

 

They're trudging through mud, Jones practically laying atop Ben, it's the middle of the goddam night, and they have no idea which direction to head towards. They're silent for most of the walk, stopping every so often in a paranoid moment, thinking they're being followed.Eventually they clear a road and walking that seems safer, the first few cars pass them with no attention, but eventually one with a familiar license plate stops and Ben swears Jones is crying on him.

 

His mother doesn't kill him, though the way she holds him Ben is pretty sure he'll never be allowed to leave her sight ever again. The police inform him he'd been missing fro 3 weeks as they question him and ask him to recall as many details as possible. The next morning they scour the area and find the mine shack they were being held in, there is no body laying in the entrance but a broken lacrosse stick covered in blood and dirt is returned to Ben by the end of the night and the body of Thomas and Raz are never found.

He can't sleep for night afterwards, the doctors tell him it's normal after experiencing such a trauma but Ben knows it's not that. He just doesn't get it. Nothing makes sense to him. He lays in bed tossing and turning for hours trying to figure it out. How any of it made sense, the mutated werewolf creatures, the strange blue liquid, taking 4 completely different boys, possibly killing two of them, none of it makes any damn sense.

" _I always found good old fashion research helps._ "

The voice startles him. Through all the mayhem he had forgotten about Dean.

"Am I going crazy?" he asks his dark room.

 _We're all a little crazy_ , the voice in his head responds.

Ben nods his head once before sitting up and grabbing his laptop.

 

He stays up researching until his eyes feel like they might bleed and when he stumbles into the kitchen his mother looks at him with worried eyes and sends him back to bed, assures his back he can take as much time off as he needs.

 

When he wakes up again it's almost 3 o'clock and his phone is beeping with a new message from his mother.

"There's lasagna in the oven, won't be home till midnight, don't wait up. I love you Ben."

He wishes she didn't sounds like going to work was killing her, but before he can think too much of it his phone dings again with a new email;

 

 

 

> from swstanford@gmail.com
> 
> re:your email popped up on this weird forum with a note that said you could help

 

 

 

> ben,
> 
> I've read your story and I don't think you're making any of it up. The sort of work I do unfortunately brings me to see a lot of weird shit and what you're talking about doesn't sound as far out as I wish it did. Looking into some personal records I've kept over the years, the creature you described to me does sound like something I've gone up against before, and against my better judgment I've decided to include scans of the notes I took on the particular incident a few years ago. Listen to me kid, this isn't the sort of stuff you want to go up against, and if I wasn't in the position I am right now I would go take care of it myself, but I do fear if I don't tell you this information you'll get yourself killed trying to figure it out. 
> 
> Be safe kid, carrying around silver, and don't do anything stupid.
> 
> -sw

 

 

 

> file attachment

 

Ben downloaded the attachment and had to take a moment to ask himself if he was really gonna believe what this so called expert had told him, because mutated werewolves charmed to work for a coven of witches and do their dirty work was sure as hell not gonna fly with the police department, or his mother for that fact. 

" _Trust him Ben, that guy knows what he's talking about._ "

Ben groaned, "Is this some sign that I'm gonna crazy?"

" _I told you-_ "

"Yeah, yeah, we're all a little crazy."

 

The local library was practically deserted when he showed up ready to uncover some mysterious on lycantrophy and covens, which worked out perfectly for him because he really didn't want to have to explain to anyone why he was looking up effective ways to dispose of a werewolf. According to the files that SW guy had sent him silver was the most effective, bullet straight to the heart would do the trick, but with anything when in doubt cutting of their heads worked too. Ben didn't think his lacrosse stick was made of silver but it might have only slowed down the werewolf he attacked in the mine, Ben really hoped that guy was dead.

He researched until the librarian walked around letting everyone know the library was about to close, and by the end of the night he felt like he hadn't learned anything he didn't already know, which was odd because why did he know so much about werewolves and witches?

Ben biked home quickly, making no stops and taking a popular road, he knew if he got taken again his mother would definitely disown him. Still when he rounded into his driveway he wasn't expecting to see poor sickly Jones sitting on his front steps.

"Hey man," he called out cautiously, walking his bike the rest of the way.

Jones' head snapped up and Ben cringed at his hollow eyes.

"Hey." he stood up and somehow he looked smaller.

They stood their watching each other for a moment, Ben thought about how Jones had quit the football team and Jones looked like he wasn't thinking about much.

"Uh, wanna come inside?"

Jones just nodded moving out of the way so Ben could unlock the door.

 

"You can't stop thinking about it either can you man?" Jones, or King as his friends called him, sat across the table from Ben, scarfing down a slice of lasagna. "Me neither, I can't sleep and all I see when I close my eyes are those eyes man."

Ben nodded, looking out the window in his kitchen.

"You gonna go after it aren't you?"

His attention snapped back to the ex-football payer sitting in his kitchen.

"I saw you at the library, peeked at one of the books you were reading when you got up to make copies."

Ben cleared his throat, "I was working on a research project."

"About werewolves?"

He nodded, "Yup."

They ate in silence for a couple of moments before the loud shrieking of a phone startled them both.

Ben got up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie it's me, just checking up on you, have you ate?"

"Eating right now mom."

"Alright, see you tomorrow morning then, love you!"

"Love you too mom."

He turned back around to see King staring blankly at his plate.

"Hey mom, do you mind if King-Jones, do you mind if Jones stays the night? He's having some trouble sleeping, after everything ya know." For a moment he feels bad for trying to guilt his mother into it.

"Oh, of course Ben, just make sure Jones' parents know he's here okay?"

"Yeah I will mom. Love you, bye!"

King looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"My mom gets back at midnight, we have exactly 4 hours to find those sons of bitches and get rid of them, you in?"

 

They're trudging though the woods again, lacrosse stick hanging snug on Ben's back, his mom's revolver (that she doesn't know he knows about) filled with silver bullets (that she just happened to have?) in his waist band and a bat in his left hand. They are anything but ready.

"You really gonna follow some random dudes advice on the silver though?" King asks beside him, he has a machete strapped to his back along with a crowbar and some silver knifes from his moms china set.

"Well most of what he said matched up with some sort of lore, it's worth a shot."

"It's worth getting us killed."

Ben spun around, "You didn't have to come King."

"Like hell I didn't," he shouldered past him.

" _Remember kid, keep your eyes and ears open._ " 

 

The really don't expect to find them that easily, but a couple of minutes later they stumble upon the soft glow of a fire and the fair sound of chanting. Both boys slowed their pace, trying to be as quiet as possible and keep hidden behind the foliage.

"What the fuck is that?" King whispered beside him.

"Witches."

 

They watched the scene until their legs grew sore. 

"So what's the plan exactly?"

Ben turned, watching King's transfixed face in the glow of the fire.

"We just gonna go in with a line of fire?" King turned to Ben shrugging. "I guess there are worse ways to go."

Ben smirked, raising the lacrosse stick.

"See you on the other side?"

 

Looking back at it now Ben considered the fact that going after a coven of witches controlling mutated werewolves with a minimal amount of weapons in their arsenal was probably the stupidest idea he'd ever had, and while his mother didn't murder him when he came home covered in blood, dragging a lacrosse stick behind him, the look on her face when he told her about the dreams and the feeling he had when he killed the first werewolf was something he couldn't explain. Still King and him made it out with only minimal damage, and it turned out Ben hadn't killed the werwolf from the mineshaft, somehow in all the confusion and yelling some curse was broken and the mutated werewolves turned into Thomas and Raz. King and him had dropped both boys off at the station with a story about how they'd been drugged and confused on how they ended up there half naked and covered in blood, logistics be dammed.

Ben's mom had sent him up to his room to sleep and a promise to take him to the doctors in the morning to get checked out.

He'd shrugged his half torn clothes off and curled up under his covers, closing his eyes and falling asleep, not dreaming about anything in particular for the first time in weeks.

 

After the incident, and the doctors appointment, and the couple therapy sessions his mom thought would be helpful, life went back to relative normality for Ben. Thomas and Raz went back to school and King said hi to Ben in the mornings instead of shoving him into lockers. School life continued, he went to his classes, took test, and no one else went missing. 

Back at home though, Ben spent hours searching the web for answers to what had happened and he discovered a hidden world of supernatural beings lodged in the depths of the interwebs. He begun keeping a journal of all the information he could gather, occasionally emailing different 'expert sources' to confirm wether or not the information was reliable, and well if his mother noticed that he started ruining more ofter, and hitting the gym at all times of the day, she didn't say anything.

Even after everything there was something he couldn't shake, some sort of feeling that came with holding a gun in his hand or knowing the fifteen different ways to dispose of a vampire. Soon school ended, Ben graduated and surprised his mom when he told her he was taking a year off before college to figure some things out. Instead of fighting him on it as Ben would have thought she'd would, she handed him a piece of paper with an address and told him it was for when he was ready.

Ben later bought an old yellow mustang that looked like it belonged in car heaven but still reeved like a new born, and headed out to the open world with his journal and a saw offed hidden in the back seat. His mother cried but made him promise to call every night, almost like she knew why he needed to do what he was doing.

 

He spent six months on the road going to no particular place, following strange news and going after those things, until then, that he had only read about online. His first few scrapes with creatures of the night almost didn't end well, but with practice came experience and later he was doing things he didn't know he was capable of but that felt like nothing more then a muscle memory.

 

_"It's in your blood boy."_

Dean's voice became a silent answered prayer in times of trouble and while Ben didn't want to think about the fact that he was probably insane for hearing voices he always reminded himself that he had to be a little crazy for doing what he was doing anyways.

 

And six months in after a particularly bad job and a disturbing dream that kept him up with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the scrap of paper his mother had given him in another Ben set off to Kansas with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him maybe it was time.

 

He didn't hear Dean's voice in the days it took him to drive there.

 

_"There's only one set of keys into the bunker, but sometimes Sammy doesn't check the door right and it gets caught on this weird tile."_

Ben smirked, jiggling the handle to the weird door the address on the paper had led him too, until it creaked open.

_"Careful with the last step, it's loose and you don't want to end up unconscious in place you don't know."_

Ben jogged down the steps as quietly as he could, gripping a gun in his hand.

_"There's a sharp right which leads to the main room, wouldn't want you to get lost."_

He saw the light being illuminated into the stairway, bringing his gun up he stepped inside.

 

A man with shoulder length hair sat at a table with books stacked around him, Ben stepped in carefully, inching towards the man, gun still raised in the air. The sound of a gun cocking rang behind him and the man at the table swung around as Ben turned to another man in a plaid shirt holding his own gun aimed at him.

"Who the hell-Ben?"

Ben froze, hold on his gun waning, he recognized that voice.

"Dean?"

 


End file.
